


Warning Signs

by finefeatheredfriend



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Edging, F/M, Fingering, Mostly Pwp, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging, Sex Toys, Smut, Vaginal Sex, slight praise kink, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finefeatheredfriend/pseuds/finefeatheredfriend
Summary: Arthur once again encounters Black Belle and finds himself in her debt. She's got just one idea for how she'd like to be repaid.[“You ain’t the one givin’ the orders, cowboy. You get on that bed and you move when I say you can move.” Arthur laughed. “I wasn’t askin’,” Belle clarified, raising a brow imperiously.“Okay, okay,” Arthur chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender and laying back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.“You keep talkin’ and I’ll gag you too,” she advised him.]
Relationships: Black Belle/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	Warning Signs

In all thirty or so years of his life, Arthur had never particularly bothered to pay attention to warning signs. “WARNING: EXPLOSIVE,” declared boxes of TNT he used to bust into trains. “No Entry” stated placards on the back doors of banks. So when he came across a dusty old cabin in the middle of nowhere with a little picket fence around it with signs that read “No trespassers, no exceptions,” he didn’t pay it much mind.

Arthur had been riding hard for the better part of a week, trying to shake bounty hunters who had followed him west from Lagras. He hadn’t come across them in about two days, but he knew better than to underestimate men who were willing to kill for money. Hell, he was a man willing to kill for money, so he knew the feeling, knew how far he would go to hunt a man down for cash. Running for that long, however, was exhausting. His ass was chapped from being stuck in the saddle for so long. His hair badly needed washing and he knew the rest of him could use soap too. He could nearly see the lines of scent wafting off him, all body odor and the smell of dusty horse. He could use a rest, and a rest inside of four walls and a roof seemed particularly appealing right this moment, with the sun beating down on his hat and sweat dripping down his ass crack, making him itchy and irritable.

“Easy girl,” he murmured to his horse, hitching her to a solid pine tree and removing her saddle so she could rest as well. She nickered softly to him, accepting a carrot with gentle nibbles of her lips as he scratched under her jaw with a small smile. “You’re a good girl,” he assured her, patting her shoulder. The mare flicked her tail across his hip affectionately, pawing the ground and giving a quiet blustering neigh. “‘No trespassers,’” he read aloud with a mischievous smirk, walking toward the cabin. The building the sign warned of looked quite old, and though it appeared possibly abandoned, smoke occasionally wafted from the chimney, remnants of either an old fire, or a carefully controlled one. “Let’s have a look,” he decided in a quiet murmur. Arthur stared down the pathway leading to the cabin, eyes searching for snakes amid the thick layer of pine needles and oak leaves that formed a plush carpeting on the ground. Seeing no cause for concern, he took a step forward.

Arthur Morgan had never paid attention to warning signs before. He wondered now, as he gave a loud yelp, his head striking a rock as he was abruptly slung upward by his ankle if perhaps he should start heeding those warnings. A rough groan worked its way out of him as he tried to reorient himself, feeling nauseated at the pounding in his skull and the hazy way the horizon seemed to wander back and forth, back and forth. Shaking his head, he wiped a hand over his face and assessed his situation. He was hanging upside down by a rope around his ankle, dangling like a particularly large clock pendulum. Grunting with the effort, he tried to bend at the middle to grab his own leg and free himself, but between his head hitting a rock on his way up in the trap and the exhaustion he felt from riding for a week straight, he simply couldn’t manage it.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, craning his neck now so that he could see the ground. He was easily four feet off the ground, too far for him to reach to right himself. Heart sinking, Arthur realized that his sidearm had slid from his holster and was resting in the pine needles beneath him, too far away to be useful. He let his arms relax, hanging down toward the ground as he moaned and tried to sort out how to free himself from this situation. It was hard to draw in breaths upside down like this, and he gave a mighty cough before sucking in another breath to whistle to his horse. She stared at him placidly, tugging at her reins, but he had tied her tightly to the tree. She wasn’t coming to his aid anytime soon. He was swinging back and forth, his movements making the motion worse and now he began to slowly spin, further nauseating him. He heard a tinkling bell that accompanied his movements and swore. Might as well see if the home owner would let him off with a warning instead of a bullet to the brain. “Uh,” he began eloquently, “hello? Anybody there?” he hollered, fighting down the urge to vomit as he spun round and round while swinging back and forth, his ankle throbbing within his boot.

As Arthur spun, he saw the door to the cabin crack open. A familiar voice cackled.

“Well, well, well. Can’t seem to be rid of you, young’un. Why is it it’s always the cute ones who are dumber than a bag of bricks?” she laughed.

“Ms. Colter,” Arthur grumbled, spinning around again. “Don’t suppose you’d give me a hand gettin’ down from here?” he asked hopefully. Black Belle, infamous gunslinger, huffed a laugh.

“You’ve been quite a pain in my behind, Mr….what was it again?”

“Morgan,” he reminded her dryly.

“Mr. Morgan. First time I meet you, you brung bounty hunters down on my head. Second time, you ignore my sign and barge right on in here. Hmm. Seems to me if I let you down, you’ll owe me somethin’.”

“Anythin’,” he blurted, feeling well and truly sick now from the spinning. “Just please cut me down!”

“Hmm. Well, I’m all married out,” she reminded him, stepping closer and putting a hand on his hip to stop his spinning, eyeing him with a look of contemplation. “But I ain’t dead yet. It’s been a while since the…rifling of my gun’s been bored out, if you get my meaning,” she told him with an appreciative squeeze of his ass cheek and a pointed look at the bulge in his groin.

Arthur raised a brow.

“You ain’t serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? What? You too proud to bed an old lady?” she asked him, pushing a finger into his belly to start him swinging back and forth again.

“Oh Christ,” he mumbled as her shove set him in motion where he dangled, feeling his gorge rising as his world rocked back and forth. He swallowed hard and panted. “I ain’t…it ain’t that, it’s just…I don’t…I ain’t…I don’t just…I can’t…oh hell. I don’t wanna knock someone else up,” he grumbled, burning beet red at the admission. That got a hearty, stomach-deep series of guffaws from Belle, who threw her head back and cackled.

“Honey, if you managed to plant a seed in my belly, it’d be a miracle on a biblical scale. Besides, I got a few other things we could try iffin yer so worried about it. Now, do you want down from there, or do I need to let you hang a bit longer to think on it?” Exasperated, but not entirely uninterested, Arthur squirmed, kicking his free leg so he could spin back around to meet her eyes from his awkward angle.

“What kinda ‘few other things’?” he asked, intrigued. Belle smirked.

“How open-minded are ya, cowboy?”

“I’ll let you do just about anythin’ to me so long as you let me the hell down from here,” Arthur told her with a little moan as she intentionally sent him spinning faster with a swat of her hand against his thigh.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she promised, and cut the rope. Arthur landed in a cacophony of limbs, his shoulders taking the brunt of his fall.

“Ugh,” he slurred hazily as he slowly stood and shook himself off, knocking pine needles and other refuse from his clothing. His vision was slightly blurry both from the blow to the head and from so much spinning, but he felt otherwise fine. He untied the rope from his boot and tossed it to the ground with an irritated look at Belle. “Don’t suppose there’s a wash basin in there?” he asked.

“I was warming some water before you interrupted my afternoon,” she told him with a droll expression. “Reckon I can share, Morgan.”

“Arthur, please,” he asked her, reddening again. “Might as well call me by my Christian name if we’re gonna be gettin’ to know each other… _biblically_ ,” he purred, this last coming out in a much calmer and more interested tone of voice. Belle shrugged and turned away, starting toward the door of the cabin.

“Unless, of course,” she said over her shoulder with a coy smirk, pushing the shoulder of her dress down to expose bare, freckle-smattered skin, “you don’t want to?” Arthur cleared his throat and adjusted his bandana around his neck, feeling the blood that had all rushed to his head begin a migration to a different area of his body in response to her suggestive tone.

“Oh, I want to,” he assured her in a low voice, surging forward and spinning her around to face him, tipping her hat back out of her face so he could kiss her. It had been a while, but his lips and his hands and his hips remembered how, pulling her to him with an urgency that surprised him.

Getting out of scrapes alive generally made him feel this way, desperate to feel alive while on the high of surviving a thing that he should not have. More often than not this excitement was channeled into his fist wrapped around his own cock, imagining a woman’s lips or dripping quim pleasuring him, while in reality Arthur set a furious, clenched-jawed pace before the fantasy dispelled and he would spill himself on the side of a tree or into a bandana that needed washing. It wasn’t often he went under-petticoating, having unintentionally made a child with a waitress years ago. Given how things had turned out, it wasn’t something he wanted to happen again.

But Arthur liked this woman, really liked her, not just because she wasn’t bad on the eyes, but because she was brave, and witty and one hell of a shot. All the things he had never looked for in a woman, and just like those warning signs, he wondered if he’d been ignoring all the things he should have embraced before.

“Well, then,” Belle murmured in an amused tone, running a hand down his front to grasp the rod-like hardness that was pressing painfully against the buttons of his jeans, “let’s see if you know how to use this equipment. I find most young men think it oughta work like a derrick piston.” Her eyes narrowed as she smirked. “Takes a bit more know-how than that to strike oil.”

“Ms. Colter–”

“Belle,” she corrected.

“Belle, then,” Arthur smiled, holding her waist with one hand and tipping the brim of his hat with the other. “I reckon I oughta clean up a bit and I can show you my know-how.”

Arthur followed Belle inside, washing himself with the warm water and a rag he was offered. He shucked his hat, running his hand through his hair with a light sigh. Belle watched him appreciatively from the ktchen table, where she had sat and was sipping a cup of coffee, or perhaps something stronger. Arthur made eye contact with her as he dropped first one, then the other side of his suspenders, letting his pants sag around his hips as he untucked his shirt and began slowly unbuttoning it.

“You’re takin’ yer sweet time. What’s the matter, hon, scared you can’t handle me? I promise I’ll be gentle,” she mocked. Arthur snorted.

“Figured I’d give you a show, but have it your way, then,” he said, flinging his shirt off and letting his pants and union suit fall to the ground, leaving him standing naked and erect before her. She lifted an eyebrow at the size of him, taking in the length and girth of his cock, which bent down and slightly to the right, a bead of precum leaking from its slit. His balls, in proportion to the rest of his credentials, hung low and heavy between his legs in the warmth of the cabin.

“Well, well. God may not have blessed you with brains, but I think he made up for it with that,” Belle observed, biting her bottom lip. Arthur wrung the rag out, wiping his body down, letting the moist cloth add a shine to his muscles, which, if he were being entirely honest, he was doing his best to flex for Belle’s enjoyment. Dipping the rag once more in the warm water, he wrung it this time over his body, letting the water flow down his large chest, trickling through his chest hair and running down the trail of soft brown hair that led to the thatch that nestled around the base of his cock.

“You are,” he told her, stepping closer to the chair where she was sitting until he could put a hand on it, “entirely too dressed, Ms. Belle.” With that, Arthur tugged the chair out from beneath the table and knelt down in front of it, lifting her skirts and petticoat and burying his face between her legs.

Belle’s hand found its way into Arthur’s hair as he lapped at her, throwing her head back and letting out a raspy moan as he sank fingers inside her.

“That’s all well and good, darlin’,” she commented breathlessly a few minutes later, “but I was lookin’ for somethin’ a little more involved.”

“Okay then,” he told her, standing and tugging her upright, shoving her toward the bed in the corner of the cabin with a glint in his eyes. “Lie down on that bed,” he ordered.

“Nuh uh,” she responded, hands going to her hips. “You ain’t the one givin’ the orders, cowboy. You get on that bed and you move when I say you can move.” Arthur laughed. “I wasn’t askin’,” Belle clarified, raising a brow imperiously.

“Okay, okay,” Arthur chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender and laying back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Have a seat,” he told her, flicking his glance intentionally toward his stiff cock.

“Shut up,” Belle told him dryly, grabbing a length of rope.

“The hell’s that for?” he demanded. She popped him abruptly on the cheek with an open palm, making his eyes water with the sting of it.

“You keep talkin’ and I’ll gag you too,” she advised him. Belle crawled onto the bed after kicking her shoes off. “On your knees.” Arthur complied, curious where this was going, but not entirely trusting. She grabbed his wrists and forced them behind his back, wrapping the rope expertly around them, but not so tight that he was uncomfortable.

“I’ll admit this is better than danglin’ from that tree, but I dunno if–” Another slap and this time Arthur shut his mouth with an audible _pop_ , content for the moment to see how things progressed.

“You said you were open-minded. We’re about to find out if that’s the case,” Belle informed him, pulling a leather harness of some sort from amongst her things. With it, she also revealed a smooth, polished wooden cock. Arthur snorted, opening his mouth to comment, but then thought better of it when he saw Belle’s hand move to pop him again. “Good boy,” she purred and he could hardly contain the moan of arousal that threatened to spill out of him from the sudden praise.

Moving closer to the fire, Belle picked up a small glass bottle and let it sit in the water warming above the fire for a moment. Arthur desperately wanted to know what it was, but he figured he would find out in a moment.

“Beeswax and mineral oil,” Belle told him, swishing the bottle where the thick oil had gone slick with warmth. “Best thing for it.”

“For what?” he blurted and she smirked, but when he winced slightly at her raised hand, she modified the slap to a gentle pop of the palm of her hand.

“Hush,” she told him, kissing him gently, her teeth grabbing at his bottom lip and pulling slightly until she felt resistance and released it. Arthur moaned softly as she shed her clothing, leaving her corset, brassiere and a pair of lace underwear covering her. Arthur eyed her up and down appreciatively, eyes staying glued to the lacy underwear. “A girl’s gotta have some secrets under all them damn layers,” Belle smirked. She slipped the harness she had pulled out earlier up over her muscular hips, sliding the wooden toy into a ring at its center. Arthur had heard about this from some women of the night, and he had to admit he was curious.

“Does it…does it hurt?” he asked in a small, hesitant voice, having a good idea where the toy was headed. Belle chuckled.

“Not when I do it, darlin’,” she told him. “Now flip over.” He obeyed, his face buried in a stale feather pillow that made him feel like he needed to sneeze. The sensation passed, however, when he felt a warm hand cup his balls. He let out a rough moan as Belle’s arm laced between his legs, grasping his cock and pumping it lazily while her other hand played over his buttocks, which were thrust in the air as he leaned on his knees and his chest, his arms still tied securely behind his back.

Arthur hissed when he felt the warm oil drop onto his hole and his eyes widened when he felt first a finger and then a tongue lave across him.

“Oh Lord,” he murmured into the pillow, feeling a shudder of pleasure wash over him.

“I said ‘hush,’” Belle reminded him, slapping him hard enough on the ass to leave a red handprint, “and I meant it.” Arthur grabbed a mouthful of pillow, biting down on it hard to prevent himself from disobeying further. His left ass cheek stung, but he found, oddly, that he enjoyed the sensation. The tongue returned to his hole, gently working around the sensitive tissue as Belle’s hand rubbed slow rhythms over his cock, sliding his foreskin up over the head to lubricate her grip with the beeswax mixture. “I’ll go slowly, hon.” Arthur wondered what she meant, but then he felt a finger begin to press inside him. At first he panicked, clenching at the sudden violation, but after a moment, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. “That’s it, darlin’. I’ll make you forget all about dangling from that tree. Take your mind right off it,” she promised, spreading his legs a bit farther apart so she could perch comfortably behind him and between his feet on the bed. Her finger pushed in until it stroked against something inside of him that felt like he had been struck by a bolt of lightning.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur grunted, his hips stuttering forward in her grip, his blue eyes going wide with surprise. The crack of a palm across his ass did nothing to lessen his pleasure, instead making him sink backwards, trying to elicit the same sensation again.

“You like that, huh?” Belle purred.

“Y-yes ma’am,” Arthur answered, mouth staying open this time with pants that made little moans spill out of him with each breath. Belle added another finger and more lube and then curled her fingers just so and Arthur saw stars. “Oh Christ, oh God, oh sweet Jesus,” he moaned, his hips torn between jabbing his cock forward into her hand and his ass backwards onto her talented fingers.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, Arthur?” Belle asked, her smile clear in her voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” he half-whimpered.

“Are you going to bury your face in that pillow while I have my way with you?”

“Yes, m-ma’am,” he stuttered out as she continued that curling motion of her fingers that had his cock oozing precum all over her other hand.

“Good boy,” she told him and he twitched, using all of his considerable willpower not to be undone right then. He tried to think of things to distract him. The book he needed to find for Hosea, what was it? _The Adventure of Silver…something…?_ Those fossil notes he needed to mail… Belle’s finger moved in a “come hither” motion within him and Arthur let out a groan that was a half-sob as he fought off the orgasm that was trying to creep up on him. He had at least three bounties on his head, he needed to go pay at least one of them, maybe make a trip into Valentine for supplies while he was at it…that wagon with gold bars would be moving through Strawberry next week, he oughta coordinate a robbery with…Once more Belle’s fingers stroked across his prostate and Arthur whimpered.

“Ms. Belle, I’m gonna, I’m gonna, oh Lord, I cain’t, I’m gonna….!” She gently but quickly removed her fingers and her grip around his cock and the strangled sound that spilled out of him was more than a little embarrassing, but he could hardly help it or the desperate “please!” that spilled out of his needy mouth right after.

“That’s my boy,” she murmured in his ear. “We’ll get you there,” she promised him, pouring lube over the wooden cock jutting outward from the leather harness around her hips. The first press of it against his hole was cold and jarring. He jerked forward, smashing his nose into the pillow in an instinctual movement to escape, but a warm hand on his hips comforted him as it pressed in with a brief burning pressure that changed to urgent fullness. A deep breath punched out of Arthur at the stretching feeling and his thighs shook and burned as he spread his legs a little farther to try to accommodate the girth of the toy. It was nowhere near the size of his actual cock, but he had never experienced anything like this before and the feeling of fullness with no movement was half-maddening.

It was relieved a moment later as Belle pressed the toy the rest of the way in and then slowly, carefully pulled back out most of the way. Arthur growled into the pillow, his teeth worrying at it as he fought off an onslaught of curses and groans that wanted to escape. Instead he opted for another small, quiet,

“Oh Lord,” that made Belle chuckle.

“Didn’t take you for a prayin’ man, Arthur.” Arthur smashed his face into the pillow again and released a rumbling growl in response. Belle moved in and out of him slowly with the toy, pushing small noises out of Arthur, the memory of which she would treasure for years. It wasn’t often she found a partner open to this sort of play, not since her fourth husband, anyway.

As Belle thrusted in and out of Arthur, his cock bobbed, still dripping precum that wetted the bed beneath him. At first he tried to hold his hips up to meet Belle’s rhythm, but soon the sensation of his prostate being pressed against again and again made him lose all sense and his legs went out from under him until his whole front was being pressed into the bed, his erection caught painfully between his belly and the mattress.

“Feel good?” Belle asked him. Arthur could not muster up a response immediately, so she slapped him on the ass. “I asked you a question, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he managed hoarsely, rutting his hips forward into the bed to try to relieve some of the ache in his cock as Belle pounded into him from behind.

“Good,” she told him, loosening a buckle on her harness. The action left the toy behind inside of Arthur, and she quickly untied his wrists, flipping him over onto his back with the wooden cock still buried deep within him, its wide base preventing it from slipping all the way within him. Belle began to retie his wrists in front of him, but he offered her no resistance, instead looking up at her with a dazed expression as she suddenly sank down onto his stiff erection with no warning as she tossed the rope aside.

“S-sweet Jesus, woman, you’re gonna kill me,” he whimpered.

“Aww, honey, you’ll be fine,” she assured him, cupping his cheek in a patronizing motion as she began to grind on him, her warm, wet tightness a startling contrast to the full, solid sensation inside of him. If this was how women felt when they were fucked, he thought, as he felt the wooden cock grinding within him, he understood why they tolerated men at all. Belle rolled her hips forward and backward, soft mewls spilling out of her as Arthur’s thick cock filled her. He laid back, unable to do anything but let himself be used. He found he didn’t mind much.

With a loud, keening cry Belle orgasmed hard, scratching short nails over Arthur’s chest, clipping one of his nipples, which made him grunt in pain.

“I’m gettin’ close,” he warned her, and she smiled.

“You can come whenever you like, darlin’,” she told him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered her in a gravelly tone. He put a hand on her hip and pressed slightly. “May I?”

“You may,” she conceded, and he flipped them so that he pressed Belle into the mattress, settling between her legs and rutting deep inside her with sharp, fast thrusts that made him growl with each snap of his hips. He felt an orgasm again working up within him, aided by the fullness of the toy and its occasional slide against his prostate. His balls slapped against Belle’s pelvis with every stroke and Arthur huffed a small, desperate sound, every nerve overstimulated until finally, finally…

“Oh, oh, oh here I go,” he ground out, “Ooooh sshhhhiiiiit,” he growled, burying himself inside of Belle just as the fluttering of muscles around his hole allowed the toy to slip from him, his mouth opening to cry out at the agony of pleasure that had nearly undone him. He flopped off of her, wiping sweat from his forehead and breathing heavily. “I don’t…have words…” he mumbled, utterly exhausted and fucked out. Belle cackled and lit a cigarette, offering him one, which he took.

“They don’t teach you that in any moral establishment. Good thing we ain’t moral,” Belle chuckled. Arthur snorted.

“Hmm. Good thing,” he mumbled, his eyes closed and an arm slung across his eyes to block out the light. Belle grabbed a rag and wiped them off, lying back down on the bed to relax for a few minutes.

“Reckon you wanna go again later?” Belle asked Arthur, looking out the window at the early evening sky, which had gone a soft purple-blue with gathering rainclouds. “Arthur?” A soft snore sounded next to her and she chuckled softly, pulling a blanket over him. “Get some rest, cowboy. You earned it.”


End file.
